Pope Francis

The road to “I’m sorry”

My teens call me “Papi” and “Paps” these days. “Good morning, Papi.” I don’t mind. It’s from “Papa,” the origin of “Pope.” But I’m no Catholic. I’m just a dad who’s happy to find some heart and courage and brains, happy to get the kids further along life’s yellow brick road in one piece. My neighbour is a devout Catholic.

The Pope is cool. He’s like a grandpa. Long live the Pope.

Hannah says “The Pope is cool” and Liz says “He’s like a grandpa.” Which means that he would have to be a Dad. Which means (let’s just pretend) that he would have to be married. Which leads me to a recent excerpt on said Pope, this excerpt from a recent column: In truth, I can easily picture …

The Pope is cool. He’s like a grandpa. Long live the Pope. Read More »

The spirited ways of Pope Francis

(The Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, December 5, 2015)

KAMPALA, UGANDA ✦ I am not Catholic.

And, like you, I have my images of fatherhood.

The better ones have more to do with the holiness of, say, my boy with a ball and a catching glove on our sun-filled front lawn than with the Holy Father coming to visit.

What? Dad was gone? To give Pope Francis some Turkish Delight?

So, upon my recent arrival back in Uganda after my Canadian visit for this, I was greeted with the good news that the children still had all their limbs attached, which, in such a longer absenteeism, is as realistic a hope as any to have. Of course, I gave them some gifts and this included some Turkish Delight, that enchanted …

What? Dad was gone? To give Pope Francis some Turkish Delight? Read More »

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